


Gestalt Theory

by raphae11e



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: (aka the Maitlands are horny for all of BJ's demon bits), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Smut, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Polyamory Negotiations, Praise Kink, Riding, Threesome - F/M/M, Voice Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22627063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raphae11e/pseuds/raphae11e
Summary: Beetlejuice joining the Maitland-Deetz household has been a big change for everyone. Adam and Barbara most of all, because... well. Having the demon around is making them realize someinterestingthings about themselves.
Relationships: (BJ is Lydia's number one hype man), Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland
Comments: 17
Kudos: 280





	Gestalt Theory

**Author's Note:**

> The Beetlejuice musical has taken over all of my creative juices so I pumped this out in like two days. I can't stop thinking about all the fun and horny demon powers/features Beetlejuice could have, like... hoo boy. Oh golly gosh. And then there's Adam and Barbara being all wholesome and suburban which I love???????? It's TOO MUCH!
> 
> TL;DR Beej and the Maitlands are all hot and they should all fuck, the end! Enjoy y'all. >;^)

Being dead went an awfully long way in making one more observant, the Maitlands were quick to discover. Perhaps it was compensation for all the things they couldn’t feel anymore. Sort of a cosmic trade-off. Adam kept a mental checklist of them all, ticking boxes as he made new observations: no more taste of fresh herbs, no more warmth from the hearth, no more bumping elbows at the kitchen counter. Yes more sense of space, of the exhales and inhales and quiet breathing of the-- well, breathers that they lived with. Plus one other recent addition.

Betelgeuse. Beetlejuice. Demon-turned-semi-permanent-tenant-and-constant-source-of… 

Source of something bizarre, at any rate. Adam’s findings had become rather confusing in the wake of Beetlejuice’s return, because his presence felt far different than that of the Deetzes. More… solid? Was that the word? Adam wasn’t sure, apart from the fact that when Beetlejuice was near, his nonexistent body prickled with gooseflesh. 

“Hey, Sexy. Whatcha got there?”

Adam’s head jerked upwards far quicker than he would’ve liked, knocking his glasses clear to the end of his nose. He barely had to crane his neck to see the glinting eyes and broad smile aimed his way from around the side of the armchair.

“Ah, it’s…” He closed his book to display its cover. _“A Passion for Birds: American Ornithology After Audubon.”_

“Jesus Christ. I nearly fell asleep halfway through that title.”

Adam shot the man a sidelong glance, only half-suppressing his smile. “You know, it’s actually _quite_ interesting,” he began, even as he could feel himself losing the argument with every word. “Birdwatching has quite a long history in this country and if you give the topic a chance I’m sure it would hold your attentio--”

The chair creaked as Beetlejuice rested his full weight on its back, tipping it enough that Adam felt himself jerk forwards instinctively to maintain his balance. A pale hand shot out to catch him across the chest before he could stand up. 

_“Adam,”_ drawled the demon, low and gravely and far closer to his ear than he had expected. “D’you mean to tell me that _I_ don’t _hold your attention?”_

Heart in his throat, Adam couldn’t bring himself to turn around. It was enough to feel the breath against his cheek, the press of that palm against his ribs. Beetlejuice’s voice was like a physical touch, rumbling deep in his chest, which was currently pressed awkwardly against Adam’s shoulder blade. He was so distracted by the feeling that he nearly didn’t register the strangeness of it all-- that the demon was a tangible _weight_ beside him, unlike any other thing he or Barbara had experienced since their deaths. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a familiar pair of striped slacks, one leg draped dramatically over the arm of the chair. Part of him wanted to reach out for it, to see if that would startle another noise out of Beetlejuice, some rasping, purring, pleased growl at the sight of Adam retaliating for once.

And then another part of Adam stopped, and held his metaphorical head in his metaphorical hands, and thought, _what?_

“Hey now, don’t go all deer in the headlights on me, babe,” Beetlejuice said after a beat. He did, however, release his grip on Adam’s shirt. “I know my charm is irresistible, but come on.”

Part flustered, part confused, part giddy with this new knowledge, all Adam could manage was, “Your charm is for the birds.” The joke was terrible enough to startle a guffaw out of Beetlejuice-- but Adam still found himself reading the same passage of his book over and over, again and again, until finally the tension in the air dissipated. 

Eventually, when he turned to look, Beetlejuice was gone.

Barbara was surely, if slowly, getting used to their increasingly strange family dynamic. Of course, perhaps it wasn’t as difficult as one might think. She and Adam were nothing if not people of habit: they liked routines, neatly arranged furniture, regularly dusted bookshelves. Now that they were dead, they had plenty of time to do that. “I don’t think this house has ever been in such mint condition,” Adam had joked during one particularly rigorous cleaning session at 3am on a Tuesday.

Sorting out household rules with the Deetzes had been a breeze. It was their newest resident that was, to put it mildly, throwing Barbara for a loop. In the attic that they still called their “home base” of sorts, the Maitlands often discussed this development.

“Having him here is just very…” Barbara struggled to find the right words. Defining Beetlejuice was far from easy. “Interesting.”

Adam hummed in agreement. He was working diligently on their scale model of their town, but Barbara could see him listening and thinking through his response long before any words were uttered. He straightened up, tilting his head one way, then the other. Barbara had to fight back a smile at the way he blinked slowly behind his thick-rimmed glasses, contemplating. So _cute._

“Interesting is one way to put it,” Adam said at length. “But it’s not…” One of his hands fidgeted with a belt loop, eyes darting towards her. 

Oh, Barbara would recognize that look _anywhere._

“It’s not… _entirely_ awful,” her husband finished, smile lopsided, hands still tittering. A light blush was creeping its way up his neck.

“Right,” she agreed. She could feel herself starting to flush now, too. “Not at all.”

Lydia often teased that the Maitlands were too alike for their own good. Maybe there was some truth to that-- and in this case, the truth wasn’t all that unpleasant, either.

Entering the living room one afternoon, weeks later, Barbara found Lydia sitting on the couch, a movie playing muffled in the background. There was blood, and screaming, and what looked to be at least several zombies, but the young girl’s attention was elsewhere.

“Hey, Barbara,” she said, perfectly monotone. Her head remained bent, eyes fixed on… the couch?

Before she could ask, a head of wild green hair appeared over the cushions. “B-Town! Join us!”

“I don’t think I can paint a ghost’s nails, Beej.”

Barbara blinked, then made her way over to the couch, curiosity piqued. Sure enough, Lydia was sitting cross-legged with one of Beetlejuice’s pale hands in her lap, painting his nails with what seemed to be laser-like focus. 

“Oh!” Barbara took a seat on a nearby ottoman. She made sure to turn herself deftly away from the television, on which someone was now being dismembered with a chainsaw. “That looks lovely, Lydia dear.” 

“Mm.” Lydia applied a final, careful stroke to Beetlejuice’s right thumb. “Okay, now shake ’em like crazy!”

“Yes, ma’am!” The demon-- surprisingly-- obeyed. He held his arm out in Barbara’s direction as he did so, stopping just long enough to show her the deep purple Lydia had chosen. “Whadd’ya think, Babs?” he asked, batting his lashes. “Pretty, ain’t they?”

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Yes, they are.” Hesitantly, she reached out to cradle his hand in her own, making a show of inspecting it carefully. “Lydia has quite the steady hand.”

“Damn right.” He turned back to look at the girl in question, watching as she got back to work.

And then, between one blink and the next, his nails looked _very_ different. 

“Beetlejuice, come _on!”_ Lydia sighed in theatrical exasperation as she lifted his arm by the wrist, showing off the several inch claws he was suddenly sporting. The nails that’d already been painted were now only half-done. “I don’t have enough polish for all of these!” 

“Well I guess you’ll have to buy more then, huh?”

“You’re going to get these caught on stuff, you know.”

“Oh, I _know.”_ The hand still resting in Barbara’s flexed, and she jumped as she felt the prick of sharp points against her palm. 

Regardless of how much, ah, _physical contact_ Beetlejuice forced upon her and Adam, it was always a strange sensation. Most things she just passed through nowadays-- or at the very least, she didn’t _feel_ when she touched them. Beetlejuice, as always, was an exception to the rule. 

Barbara bit her lip to stifle a laugh as his nails scratched over her palm. They _tickled!_ “ _Bee_ tlejuice--” She aimed for a scolding tone and missed it by a mile. “These are _ridiculous._ Turn them back.”

“Alright, alright.” Beetlejuice grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll keep ‘em short for you, babe.”

 _“Gross!”_ Lydia complained, voice raised over Barbara’s sputtering and the demon’s ensuing raucous laughter.

Hands now human once more, the tedious task of repainting them all began. Girl and demon chatted amicably about school, movies, that time Beetlejuice had left a disembodied arm sticking out of the sink to scare whoever found it first. Barbara couldn’t quite focus, though. Not when she felt the ghost of claws still against her palm, and wondered if they would feel the same no matter where they touched.

Where, or _who._ Adam’s wrist, her thigh, Adam’s throat, her--

“Next time we’ll have to paint our nails green to match you guys, Barbara.”

Barbara coughed, feeling impossibly lightheaded. “That would be very sweet, dear.”

“Did you know that a great white shark can have up to 3,000 teeth in its mouth at a time?”

Adam stopped halfway through flipping a pancake. “Good morning, Lydia.”

“Yeah. And it uses the front two rows to tear off chunks of flesh from its victims.”

Adam sighed. “Good morning, Beetlejuice.”

The two of them erupted into a fit of quiet giggling-- which, if he was being honest, did bring a smile to his own face. For someone who had threatened their lives multiple times over, Beetlejuice was remarkably good with Lydia; he’d become a near constant companion in recent months, though he never went so far as to follow her to school. That is, not that Adam was aware of. And he was perfectly alright with keeping things that way. 

Nevertheless, it was a welcome addition to the Maitland-Deetz household. Adam didn’t mind making an extra serving at breakfast whenever Beetlejuice was interested in eating. Today he set out two plates-- though it was a little difficult with the mass of flashcards littering the table.

“Something due at school today?” he asked, peering over Lydia’s shoulder. 

She nodded. “A presentation in biology. We had to pick an animal that has a _complex_ relationship with humanity.”

“Ours is the best,” Beetlejuice added, sounding uncharacteristically sincere.

“Beej, I haven’t even seen the others yet! Madison Snyder is probably going to one-up everyone again.”

 _“Fuck_ Madison Snyder,” said Beetlejuice sagely, at almost the exact same time as Adam said, _“Language.”_ Lydia snorted, then slapped a hand over her mouth as she nearly spit pancake all over her flashcards.

“Lyd are you sure I can’t make an appearance for this one?” the demon continued, “Cause I can do a real mean shark impression, I bet it would really add to the whole shebang--”

“No!” This time, both Lydia and Adam were in agreement. 

“What does a shark impression even _entail?”_ Adam asked, trying his hardest not to look too intrigued. Beetlejuice’s powers, though often havoc-wreaking, were never boring.

“Can you turn _into_ a shark?” Lydia added eagerly.

“That wouldn’t fit in the classroom, kiddo.” Beetlejuice tapped a finger on his chin in mock consideration. “I can definitely manage the teeth thing though.”

“Do it, do it!”

Adam had his back to them, so he didn’t see what happened next-- but he certainly did hear Lydia’s laugh and exclamation of, “Oh my God, _dude!_ Does that hurt?”

Beetlejuice’s response was nearly unintelligible. He sounded like he was talking around a mouthful of cotton balls; the distinct image of those cheap sets of plastic vampire fangs came to mind, and Adam snorted at the thought.

“Maybe you don’t need _that_ many. Can you tone it down?”

A beat of silence, then: “Like this?” Beetlejuice’s voice, words clear but with a slight lisp.

“Yeah, better. Now you just look like you’ve filed your teeth.”

“Ooh, _neat._ Breathers do that?”

“Lydia,” Adam interjected-- and not entirely for selfless reasons, with the way his nape was prickling with heat-- “Doesn’t school start at 8?”

“Yeah, it-- oh, shit!” There was a sudden, frantic rustling of what sounded suspiciously like flashcards being shoved into a backpack. Adam turned to watch her dart out of the room, shouting over her shoulder, “Alright, I’m going!”

“Have fun at school, sweetie!” Beetlejuice called after her in falsetto. Luckily he was turned away, so Adam wasn’t forced to think about just how many teeth he still had in his mouth.

Lydia’s laugh echoed all the way from the foyer. “Snyder is going down!”

 _“Fuck yeah_ she is!” crowed the demon, as Adam, defeated, replied once more, _“Language.”_

“Touchy, touchy.” A flash of relief shot through him when Beetlejuice inclined his head and smiled with a perfectly normal amount of teeth. Only the canines maintained their razor-sharp edges. “What’s got your panties in a twist today, huh sweetheart?”

At this point, appearing anything less than flustered was a lost cause. Adam only shook his head, taking dish and towel in hand and returning to his chores. He got a disappointed _tsk_ for the silent treatment, but not much more. 

“Good morning, everyone!”

Adam turned on the spot, relieved for an end to the silence. “Barbara,” he said. “Good morning!” 

“We were just talking about my bite strength,” Beetlejuice told her earnestly.

“You were talking about what?” asked Charles as he came down the stairs.

“Oh my God.” Adam buried his face in both of his hands. He changed his mind: he’d prefer silence over this mortification any day. 

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! Come here!”

The use of his name, twice in a row no less, made the demon freeze mid-stride on his way to the stairs. Even from this far away, Barbara could see his eyes were wide as saucers. “Huh what?”

“Come here!” she repeated, beckoning to him with the spoon in her hand. “I just realized something.”

It was very rare to see Beetlejuice appear nonplussed, but he certainly seemed that way as he joined Barbara in the kitchen. His bewilderment didn’t last long, though, as she turned to him and said, “You can be my taster!”

Beetlejuice blinked. “You mean like… for whatever this is?”

“A cherry pie. And yes, exactly.” 

At that, his face lit up. “Oh _hell yeah._ I haven’t had one of those in, uh…” He held up his hand, counting under his breath. All Barbara caught was a furtive whisper of _one hundred, two,_ and then Beetlejuice gave up with a shrug. “A long time, obviously,” he said, grinning sheepishly. 

“Well, that’s about to change.” Barbara reached for a second, smaller bowl nearby and held it up. “I’m adding sugar to the filling and need to know if it’s sweet enough. Which is kind of tough in my, um. Current state.”

“Count me in, babe. Where do I sign? Is there a union for this kind of work?”

Barbara shook her head, smiling. “Here, just take this.” She held a spoonful up to his face, close enough that he went cross eyed. “I want a detailed description.”

Beetlejuice took the spoon from her and slid it into his mouth without hesitation. Eyes fluttering shut, the noise he made was far too erotic to be accidental. _“Babs,”_ he said, talking around the utensil, “this shit is _gourmet._ What’s your secret? Cocaine?”

Ridiculousness aside, Barbara couldn’t help but grin at the compliment. She bounced a bit on the balls of her feet, which of course Beetlejuice noticed right away, and then _he_ was grinning too. Wide enough that his eyes crinkled, and inhumanly toothy, reminding her of the whole shark situation weeks ago. It had taken a lot of coaxing before Adam had explained _that_ to her in any sort of detail.

“I’m taking it there’s enough sugar in the mix, then?”

“Honestly sweetheart, you could dump a whole ‘nother pound in here and I’d eat it up. But yeah, it’s enough for the squishy humans who _can’t be eating all that sugar, it’ll hurt their soft little teeth.”_ The last bit of his sentence sounded suspiciously like an imitation of Delia, but there wasn’t any venom behind it. Seemingly satisfied, he pulled the spoon from his mouth and pressed the flat of his tongue against it, curling the tip around--

Wait.

Something in the back of Barbara’s mind suddenly faltered. “Your tongue is… um.”

Beetlejuice cleaned off the rest of the spoon before answering. “Sometimes,” he agreed, as if she’d actually used an adjective in that sentence.

Long. Far from human. Striped, _purple,_ even prehensile maybe. And that is where Barbara forced her train of thought to reroute. Not that she found these details to be particularly interesting, of course. Not at all. “I didn’t… notice before,” she admitted, almost as an afterthought. It was true-- though how she could have missed such a detail was beyond her. 

“Didn’t you?” Predictably, she was met with a sly grin for her efforts at nonchalance. He even stuck his tongue out again, this time giving her an exaggerated wink.

“Well, put it to good use then--” Beetlejuice opened his mouth, but she did _not_ give him the satisfaction of replying to _that_ Freudian slip, “--and help me with the rest of this baking.”

As it turns out, Beetlejuice could be a surprisingly diligent assistant when he wanted to. The _wanting to_ part was just often the problem. Fortunately for her, this time he seemed… dare she say interested in helping? After a bit of guidance, he was quick to help her measure out and mix the rest of their ingredients, until they had several pies neatly placed in the oven.

About halfway through the process, Adam came down from the attic, presumably because things had gotten a little _too_ quiet. The Deetzes were out to dinner, but Beetlejuice alone could make a ruckus that was hard to miss. Silence was often a sign of guilt in this household.

“You two are… baking?” he asked, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked nearly as bewildered as Beetlejuice had when Barbara first enlisted his help. The-- was that a Shake Weight?-- in his hand definitely added to the image. 

“We should patent this gimmick, I’m tellin’ ya. What about _Netherworld’s Kitchen?_ Too on the nose?”

Barbara laughed, finally dusting off her hands and taking a seat at the counter. “Ummm…” She pressed a finger to her lips momentarily. _“Specter_ … _tacular Baking?”_

Beetlejuice groaned. “That’s terrible and you know it. Jesus, you’re as bad as Adam.”

“Hey, my jokes aren’t _that…_ no, okay, you’re right.” Adam sat down on Barbara’s other side, setting his strange accessory down with far more gentle hands than it probably deserved.

Beetlejuice raised one eyebrow. “Planning on doing some… Jazzercise or something?”

“Hm? Oh, no!” Adam laughed, rubbing a palm over the nape of his neck. “No, I just found it in the attic, is all.”

“We have the _darndest_ things up there, don’t we!” Their slow gutting of the attic was a source of much excitement for both the Maitlands, even if it meant being incessantly teased by one member of the household in particular. _Whitebread,_ he called them. “You know, just the other day I--”

Halfway through Barbara’s sentence, Adam’s eyes drifted to just over her shoulder-- and stopped. The surprise there was hard to miss, mouth falling just the slightest bit agape, leaving her to turn around and follow his line of sight.

Beetlejuice made prolonged, unnerving eye contact with each of them in turn. He had a cherry in hand, taken from the bowl of leftovers still sitting out on the table, and was in the process of putting it on his tongue. His long, striped, purple, _definitely_ prehensile tongue.

“Oh. Um. That’s.” There was a _snap_ as Adam abruptly shut his mouth. Barbara just reached back blindly and patted his knee, unable to tear her gaze away from where Beetlejuice’s jaw was flexing beneath pale skin.

Several seconds later, the demon made an _aha!_ noise and opened his mouth. There, on his lolling tongue, sat a cherry stem in a perfect knot.

“That’s…” Barbara took a moment to collect herself. “Impressive!” Adam made a sound like he was being strangled. The look Beetlejuice gave both of them was nothing short of electric.

And then there came the sound of the front door opening, and the voice of Lydia hollering, “We’re home!”

Reality seemed to melt back in around them. Barbara smiled, feeling Adam relax at her side, and Beetlejuice closed his mouth faster than she would’ve thought possible. All three of them answered the Deetzes with a chorus of greetings. The pies were done soon after and, much to Barbara’s delight, were a huge hit with everyone who was capable of eating them. When the Maitlands eventually decided to retire, they said their goodnights and climbed the stairs together.

No sooner had the attic door closed than Barbara let out a sigh. It was like the tight coil of her spine had finally relaxed, and now she was able to _breathe_ again. Metaphorically speaking, of course. When she looked to her husband, he seemed much the same, all slumped shoulders and worry lines.

Whether it was because they were ghosts, or married, or both, something unspoken passed between them: the same image, captured perfectly in their mind’s eye. And for Barbara, that was the final straw.

 _Maitlands 2.0,_ she repeated mentally. _Come on, come on._ “I think we should have a talk with Beetlejuice,” she said aloud.

Silence-- but only for the briefest of moments. Because Adam blushed, looking about as embarrassed as she felt, and replied, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

They set their plan in motion just a few days later. All morning, Adam felt his stomach fluttering; and judging by Barbara’s uncharacteristic reticence, she felt the same. It wasn’t until the afternoon that they had a chance at some privacy.

“Beetlejuice, could we talk to you?”

The demon looked at the two of them standing side by side, arms intertwined, and of course jumped to conclusions. “If this is about the nest of spiders in that floor lamp in the living room, it was not me. Honest.”

“I--what?” Barbara said.

“Spiders?” Adam echoed. Even as a ghost, he wasn’t particularly fond of the things. Too many legs.

“No, Beetlejuice we--” Barbara cut herself off with a huff. It was hard to blame her for being unsure of how to segue after that _._ “We just wanted to ask you about something. Can you follow us?”

Clearly at a loss, Beetlejuice just shrugged. They retreated to the foyer without incident, and-- goodness. This was it. Inviting a demon into their relationship wasn’t the strangest thing they’d done since dying, right? Adam felt his heart rate spike just the slightest bit, his grip on Barbara’s forearm tightening. She squeezed back reassuringly. 

“Seriously, you guys are freaking me out. _Me._ That’s not how that’s supposed to work!”

“Sorry,” Adam said quickly, reflexively, “We just--”

“We have an offer for you,” Barbara finished for him. Then she nudged his side with her elbow.

“Ah, um… we want to know if maybe you’d like to, um. Join us? A-As in.” Lord, he was screwing this up. “Be a part of our relationship. Romantically, if you’d like, but also in the… biblical sense?”

Beetlejuice stared at them blankly.

“We’re asking if you’d like to have sex with us.”

Adam’s head whipped around so fast that-- if he were alive-- it surely would’ve hurt. _“Barbara!”_

And Beetlejuice… laughed?

“Oh man, _finally!”_ The demon clasped his hands against his chest as if in prayer, eyes raised dramatically skyward. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve spent lying awake, imagining this very moment. Except I don’t need to sleep, like ever, so by _how many_ I mean _all of ‘em._ Like, every single one. But sorry to disappoint-- it’s a no from me. Your raw sexual power would probably kill me. And I’m not even alive.”

No one spoke. Adam could feel how stunned Barbara was without even looking at her. Beetlejuice stood before them, hands now on his hips and an easy smile on his face. Had _both_ of them really been misreading him this whole time?

“So…” Adam floundered. “Are you-- is that a no?”

Beetlejuice froze. 

“Wait. Wait wait wait. I--” For once, the Netherworld’s most notorious demon was speechless. “You. What did-- that wasn’t… a joke? You’re serious?”

“Well…” Barbara and Adam looked at each other, then back. “Yes.”

Watching their answer sink in would’ve been comical if the Maitlands hadn’t both been so horribly nervous. Beetlejuice’s eyes widened the slightest bit, showing off the bright yellow of his slitted irises. His hands slipped from his waist to hang limply at his sides. And he… was his _hair_ blushing? Bright, eye-searing pink crept up from his roots until it nearly eclipsed the usual green.

“Oh.” Beetlejuice blinked once, twice, and then the whole line of his body was tensing up as realization finally dawned. _“Oh._ Holy shit, _yes,”_ he hissed, teeth suddenly bared, and wasn’t _that_ an image Adam would never forget. “When are we doing this? Now? I think I could block out some time.”

“Tonight,” Barbara cut in, before the demon could get off track. She and Adam had discussed this too, of course. As much as Beetlejuice’s enthusiasm was contagious, neither of them relished the thought of this becoming public-- at least not at first, and not with such… barbarism.

“Tonight,” Beetlejuice agreed. Already his gaze looked _hungry._

Luckily for all three of them, they didn’t have to endure the tension for too long. Soon the sun was setting and the stars began filled the house with cold light. On the couch, Beetlejuice was trying his hardest to appear nonchalant, inspecting his nails almost too carefully; the Maitlands, for their part, flitted nervously about the kitchen until the final footsteps above them fell silent.

“Ready to turn in?" Barbara asked then, words sweet despite her obvious nerves. She didn't need to ask twice.

The small, enclosed space of their attic had never felt so stuffy before. Adam almost wanted to loosen his collar, despite the fact that it wouldn’t have changed things in the slightest. Goodness, but this whole _taking risks_ thing was _hard._ Barbara had been far more confident in embracing it right from the start; he was just trying his best to keep up. And to say he wasn’t eager for this would be a boldfaced lie.

Especially when the door was closed tightly behind them, and a gravelly voice in his ear was saying, “So, where were we?”

A hand grabbed at his ass and squeezed, hard enough that Adam could feel the ache. All his breath left his lungs at once. “Ah, w-well--”

“Ground rules first, boys!” Barbara separated the two of them, smiling brightly, her eyes glittering in amusement but also clearly… 

Adam swallowed. He placed his palms flat against his thighs and took a deep breath. This was going to be the _death_ of him-- er, second death.

“Taking it slow is perfectly fine,” his wife said matter-of-factly, “and no one has to do anything they don’t want to do. Got it?”

Beetlejuice snorted, hands tucked against his sides in a way that seemed suspiciously like he was trying to keep them from wandering. “Babe, trust me when I say I will do anything under the sun. But,” he nodded, “fair enough. Y’all probably wouldn’t guess this from my _everything,_ but demons are good with rules. Usually. Must be the whole blood contract thing.”

“Those are real?”

“Sure they are. What, you interested?” Beetlejuice’s grin showed off every single one of his teeth. “We’re gonna need a safe word for that first, babe.” 

Adam felt himself blushing harder, mouth moving uselessly-- but then Barbara’s hand shot out to grab the demon by his tie. Now _both_ of them were speechless. “Maybe another time,” she said. 

Before anyone could think of a suitable response, she tugged Beetlejuice forward and pressed a kiss to his parted lips. 

_Oh._ Adam had known he’d enjoy this, but. Seeing Barbara take the initiative, eyes screwed shut and tongue sliding its way between Beetlejuice’s sharp teeth… hearing the _sound_ she made when a pale hand came up to grip her by the waist, forcing her closer… He closed his own eyes briefly, just to collect himself.

“C’mere, Sexy. We’re not about to leave you out.” 

Adam’s eyes flew open when a hand grabbed him by the wrist, and then suddenly _he_ was the one being kissed. Beetlejuice nipped at his bottom lip almost carefully, like he was testing the waters. When Adam’s response was a half-stifled moan, one hand coming up to cradle the nape of Beetlejuice’s neck, the next bite was--

 _“Ah!”_ Blood on his tongue, hot and metallic, Adam jerking back instinctively from the pain but. _But._ He could feel one of Barbara’s hands sliding firmly over his waist, then down, coming to rest against his inner thigh and. _And._

“D-Do that again,” he gasped out.

Beetlejuice looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you serious?”

He nodded quickly before he could change his mind, and he actually saw those slitted pupils dilate in response. “Jesus,” the demon groaned, “You’ve been holding out on me all this time, huh? _Filthy.”_

Those words definitely did _something_ to his insides, but Adam didn’t have much time to figure out what. There were lips against his, a tongue forcing its way into his mouth, a hand in his hair-- _Barbara’s,_ he thought, it was so _gentle--_ that kept him still. Another sharp prick of pain soon followed, but Beetlejuice was quick to soothe it over. Pleasure flared up in his belly as Barbara moved her hand between his legs.

When they broke apart, Adam’s head felt like it was spinning. His hips canted forward ever so slightly, palms pushing against the chest in front of him. He had always wondered what it would feel like to touch the demon: he was warm, far warmer than any human, and _soft._ His hands slid easily down the length of Beetlejuice’s body, gripping at his waist and hips through that familiar, worn, striped suit. 

As if reading his mind, Beetlejuice shrugged off the jacket and let it fall carelessly to the floor. _Should fold that,_ thought Adam absentmindedly. He couldn’t dwell on it for long though, because…

“Oh!” Barbara’s hands slid off of him as she moved forward. “You’re wearing suspenders!” she exclaimed, clearly delighted.

Beetlejuice looked down, as if he too was noticing this for the first time. “Uh… yeah.” Apparently he didn’t remove his outfit often, despite all his stories of _questionable_ sexual pursuits. The Maitlands certainly hadn’t ever seen him without it.

 _“Very_ dashing.” Barbara’s slim, delicate hand came to rest on Beetlejuice’s shoulder, rubbing back and forth soothingly. 

“Definitely,” Adam agreed. He reached out to hook several fingers under one of the suspenders. They went well with all the pinstripe, that much was certain. He wondered what decade Beetlejuice had first come to the world of the living; the demon’s fashion sense seemed more at home in the Roaring 20s than in modern day.

Beetlejuice’s gaze jumped back and forth between the two of them, eyes wide and face starting to flush. Was the attention really that overwhelming for him? It wasn’t as if he was a stranger to physical contact.

Adam felt something inside him click then. Maybe Barbara really was starting to rub off on him, because a smile spread across his face as he tightened his grip and let go of the suspender with a _snap._ The reaction he got couldn’t have been better: Beetlejuice jumped, exhaling sharply, gaze fixed to Adam’s face and mouth agape. He and Barbara both looked about as surprised as Adam felt.

“Well?” Adam asked. His pulse was practically thundering in his ears. “Are you gonna take these off? Or are you planning on making us wait?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his wife _beaming_ at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Beetlejuice’s blush had spread all the way to the tips of his ears. Somewhere throughout this whole interaction, one of his hands had fisted itself in the hem of Barbara’s dress, and his grip only tightened further as Adam waited patiently for an answer. 

Of course, it didn’t take long for the rug to be pulled out from under him again, so to speak. Beetlejuice swallowed audibly, and then said, “I wanna be in the middle.”

Ah. That was more creative than anything Adam had been considering.

“A-Alright,” he agreed-- probably too quickly, actually, for the _dominating_ persona he’d been going for, but. Well. How was he expected to keep up the act when _that_ was the response he got? Every part of him now felt jittery and anxious. 

And judging by the efficiency that followed, all three of them were clearly in agreement there.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Be gentle at first.” 

“Fuck that, you don’t need to-- ah, G- _God.”_

Adam bit his lip, one hand gripping the sheets and the other pressed against the curve of Beetlejuice’s ass. He had two fingers buried to the knuckle, every stroke met with the tight, hot clench of muscle. Barbara was watching over his shoulder; Adam could feel her breathing, slow and deliberate, and the way it pressed her soft chest against his spine. Her touch was gentle against his thigh, his elbow. Guiding him so diligently.

“Add a third,” she said, lips pressed to his ear. Adam shivered and obeyed. He wriggled his fingers to make room, a motion that had Beetlejuice moaning into a pillow, back arched. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” came the muffled chant. _“Harder.”_

“Now, Beetlejuice,” Barbara sighed, “we don’t want you coming too early, do we?”

Another moan, this one drawn out longer than the last. Though Adam couldn’t see his face, he was willing to bet Beetlejuice’s lip was caught between those inhumanly sharp teeth. The image had him shifting his weight restlessly. Little shocks of pleasure shot up his spine as the movement jostled his painfully hard dick. Barbara’s hand was so _close,_ and _warm,_ but she just. Wouldn’t _touch_ him!

Instead she watched, tracing little patterns on his thigh with her nails. She told him when to twist his wrist, to curl his fingers, Beetlejuice becoming more and more tense with every stroke. 

“That’s enough, don’t you think?” she said eventually. Adam cleared his throat and nodded; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pale expanse of Beetlejuice’s back, that splotchy blush that was spreading down his nape and shoulders. When he pulled his hand away, the demon’s entire body went limp. 

Barbara pulled away from him and got off the bed. Adam didn’t even have enough time to mourn the loss before she was resituating herself in front of Beetlejuice, pillow propping up her hips, legs primly folded. Now that he could see her properly, Adam realized just how flushed she’d become as well. 

“Now…” She reached out to run a hand through Beetlejuice’s wild hair, and he made a sound not unlike a purr. “Are you both ready?”

“You lookin’ for a magic word or somethin’, sweetheart?” Now on his elbows and knees, the sheets rustled as Beetlejuice rocked his hips restlessly. “Cause _fuck yes.”_

The Maitlands made eye contact over his head and nodded.

See, the thing was, he’d never done this before. Barbara knew that, and though Adam had never said it aloud, he was pretty sure Beetlejuice knew, too. But Adam was nothing if not booksmart, and he may or may not have done, um, _research._ Just so he’d be ready. Thus, when he slid forward and braced his hands on Beetlejuice’s hips, he was fairly certain he knew what to do.

“Oh _shit,_ fuckin’ _fin_ ally, _God--”_

Fortunately, his partner wasn’t shy about letting him know it.

Adam’s eyes fluttered shut, and he held his breath as he slid deeper, deeper, and… _there._ Hips pressed flush to Beetlejuice’s ass, he spread his legs a bit for leverage and started to move. God, it was… _tight,_ even with all the prep they’d done, and it felt different than, ah. Than with Barbara. Not better or worse, but just. Very, very new. His own stomach was already tying itself in knots.

“He can be rougher than that, can’t he, Beetlejuice?”

“Damn-- _unh,_ d-damn _right.”_

When Adam obliged, the entire length of the demon’s body shuddered beneath him, and Barbara smiled. How could she look so _sweet_ even in a situation like this? It made him duck his head in embarrassment, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he focused on moving in, out, in. Adam almost thought he could feel his pulse beating under his skin.

 _“Oh,_ th-that’s--”

His head shot back up at the sound of that voice. _Barbara._ Her chin was tipped back to expose her throat, blonde hair spilling beautifully over her shoulders. She had one hand pressed tight against her collarbone, thighs spread wide, and Beetlejuice was….

 _“Yes,”_ Barbara moaned, “ah, p- _perfect--”_

“Mnh,” came the response from between her legs. The vibrations had her head tossing to one side, eyes screwed shut and mouth open.

Adam felt just about ready to _faint._

Redoubling his efforts, he moved his grip up from Beetlejuice’s hips to his sides, then back, letting his nails scrape over heated skin. Red lines and gooseflesh appeared in their wake. Beetlejuice kept trying to buck back into his thrusts, but Adam held him as steady as he could, just as Barbara buried her fingers in his hair and fisted them. The noise they got in response sounded barely human. Adam could even hear Beetlejuice’s throat working greedily, and again he thought of the demon’s tongue and how it had--

 _“Ah!”_ Barbara’s harsh gasp made Adam’s own breath catch in his chest. How she’d managed to spread her thighs that wide, he had no idea, but now she was bucking against that waiting mouth in quick rabbit thrusts, and she moaned, _“Oh,_ G-God, _Beetlejuice!”_

“Beetlejuice,” Adam echoed, his voice shaking. “B- _Beetlejuice--!”_

The spell didn’t work if two people said the name, they all knew, but the implication of it certainly seemed enough. Beetlejuice made a sound like he’d been gutted, face pressed against Barbara, suddenly monstrous claws pricking the soft insides of her thighs. Her whole body went shivery, lip caught tight between her teeth and brows knitted. Adam slowed up just long enough to appreciate the sight.

Breathing heavily, she relaxed her grip so that Beetlejuice could toss his head back with a satisfied groan and a wet _pop_ that left nothing to the imagination. “Fuckin’ _Christ,”_ he hissed. Was it just Adam’s fuzzy brain, or did the words come out two-timbred and sharp-edged, like they were unraveling at the seams?

His momentary lapse in attention was broken by a chant of “Back up, back up, c’mon Sexy,” and in his bewilderment, Adam obeyed. Beetlejuice pulled away and he gasped as he was left cold, dick twitching against his thigh.

Then he blinked, suddenly realizing he was now flat on his back. A pair of yellow eyes stared down at him, dark pupils almost eclipsing them completely.

“Shove me off if y’need to,” was all Beetlejuice said before he promptly sat down on Adam’s dick.

God, Adam couldn’t _breathe._ He opened his mouth and no sound came out, feet digging into the mattress and hands twisted in the sheets. Above him, Beetlejuice’s eyes rolled back in his head for the briefest of moments, teeth bared in a manic grin. The demon’s thighs spread wide, cock bouncing as he pushed himself up onto his heels.

 _“Fuck_ yes,” he snarled, “Fuckin’ _skewer_ me babe--” 

“O- _Oh,_ ” such _language,_ Adam didn’t know what to say, his insides were on _fire,_ “I-I--”

As Beetlejuice moved, brief glimpses of the bed behind him revealed Barbara now propped against the headboard. She had a hand covering her mouth, but Adam could tell she was smiling. And _watching._ A sound seeped out from between his teeth that was dangerously close to a whimper.

“Open up, doll.” The command was punctuated with a slow grind down against Adam’s hips and he gasped-- just in time for Beetlejuice to grab the hinge of his jaw in one hand, holding it open. 

Their noses pressed together as they kissed, knocking his glasses askew. Beetlejuice tasted like… like Barbara’s… and then there was the _tongue._ It writhed inside Adam’s mouth, exploring every groove of his molars until it slipped even _deeper,_ and he almost gagged but the thorny heat in his gut only burned hotter at the feeling.

Adam’s hands flew up to grip Beetlejuice’s thighs, soft but deceptively strong as they balanced his weight. The demon growled and pulled away long enough to grit out, “Bet that throat’d feel even better around my cock, so fuckin’ _tight,_ and Babs can fuck you while I--”

Adam didn’t even hear the rest. White noise filled his head, a totally, blissfully blank slate, and then he was coming. 

The world came back to him in small pieces. It was a lot like having pins and needles, he thought; sensations emerging out of the buzzing fog to remind him of his arms, his legs. He flexed his fingers and carefully released his hold on the thighs now bracketing his head. Blinking rapidly, he craned his neck just in time to see Beetlejuice spill into his own hand, ropes of cum striping Adam’s still-heaving chest. 

“Ohhhh _yes._ Fuckin’ _awesome.”_ The demon tipped his head back, panting hard through his open mouth. “Goddamn, you two are a treasure.”

“Th--” Considering he didn’t need to breathe, Adam was having an awfully hard time catching his. “Th-Thank you.”

Beetlejuice snorted and patted his cheek. There was a rustling noise and moments later, Barbara appeared at his side, looking for all the world like an absolute ray of sunshine.

“You did _so_ well, sweetheart,” she said fondly. She rested a palm against his thigh as Beetlejuice clambered off of him with a wince. Adam’s own muscles felt sore, too, which was not at all a sensation he’d expected.

Adam smiled, still feeling a little sheepish. “I-I think…. I think I learned a lot about myself today.” 

His wife’s expression mirrored his own. “Me, too.” 

“Ahh, the wonders of a post-mortem sexual awakening.” Adam didn’t even need to look; he could hear the grin in Beetlejuice’s voice. “Always brings a tear to my eye.” 

Barbara giggled, and Adam’s smile widened as he reached up to finally fix his glasses. It was easy to forget his phantom aches and pains with the warm bodies that now surrounded him, one tucked against each side. They lay comfortably in silence for a moment, halfway between afterglow and the surface-level sleep that came to those no longer in the world of the living.

“You know,” Barbara said eventually, “maybe we aren’t as boring as we thought.”

Beetlejuice laughed. “Babe, we are only _just_ getting started.”

And for once, Adam found himself looking forward to that promise.


End file.
